The rain came down in sheets, tapping against the window like a thousand tiny drums. Hana sat on the edge of her bed, hugging her worn-out teddy bear so tightly its seams threatened to burst. The thunder outside rumbled like an angry giant, and the house seemed smaller tonight, swallowed by the storm.
She should have been asleep. Daddy always said that little girls needed their rest. But Hana couldn't sleep. Not since the accident. Not since her voice had been stolen away, leaving only silence where words used to live.
The window fogged with her breath as she leaned closer. That's when she saw him.
A man.
Running.
He staggered out of the alley across the street, clutching something dark against his chest. For a moment, lightning split the sky, and Hana caught a glimpse of his face—sharp, panicked, with eyes that darted like a trapped animal's. Something dripped from his hand, splashing into the puddles at his feet.
Blood.
Hana's fingers tightened around her teddy bear. She wanted to scream, to call for her father, but her throat betrayed her. Only silence. Always silence.
The man disappeared into the shadows, swallowed by the storm.
Minutes later, red and blue lights pierced the night. Sirens wailed. Hana's small hands pressed against the glass as police cars screeched to a stop outside her house.
Her father burst into her room, his shirt damp with sweat. "Hana! Stay here," he said, his voice tight with fear. He kissed her forehead quickly, too quickly, before rushing downstairs.
But Hana couldn't stay. Not when the thunder in her chest was louder than the storm outside. She padded silently down the stairs, teddy clutched to her chest.
The front door crashed open. Police officers stormed in, shouting orders. Hana's father froze in the hallway, hands raised in confusion.
"What's going on?" he demanded.
The officers ignored his words. One of them grabbed him, twisting his arms behind his back. Another held up something wrapped in cloth—a kitchen knife, smeared with blood.
Hana's eyes widened.
Her father's face turned white. "That's not mine! I don't know where that came from!"
The officers didn't listen.
They shoved him toward the door. Hana's silent scream clawed its way up her throat as she ran forward, pounding on the officer's leg with her tiny fists. "No!" she wanted to cry. "It wasn't him! I saw the real man! Please listen!"
But no words came out. Just air. Just silence.
Her father looked back at her as they dragged him away, his eyes soft with love, hard with desperation. "Stay strong, Hana! Daddy will come back to you!"
And then he was gone, swallowed by the night, the rain, and the flashing red and blue.
Hana collapsed to the floor, teddy bear pressed against her face. Her tears soaked its fur as she rocked back and forth.
She wanted to scream. She wanted to tell them everything.
She wanted to save him.
But all that escaped her lips was silence.
And in that silence, Hana made a vow.
If she couldn't speak, then she would find another way.
Because she knows the truth.
She had seen the man.
And she would not stop until the world believed her.
To be continued.